


fault lines

by 21tales



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, author is a sap, shojo tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25034470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/21tales/pseuds/21tales
Summary: deadlines can be tough for a mangaka.[ haikyuu manga spoilers ]
Relationships: Tanaka Saeko/Udai Tenma
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	fault lines

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i just wanted to write about two characters i have the hots for. maybe i have fallen very badly for this ship. the world may never know.
> 
> there is a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7wpyou96Vy2vwUV0vrFwDP?si=EgwoQ2HSRBi3NBHwbKclrA) for this fic too. enjoy!

The atmosphere in the room is grim and heavy; tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Saeko drops her bag on the door and walks in, still recovering from her climb up the stairs. Akaashi bows his head a little on noticing her presence. He is seated on the floor with a couple pages laid out in front of him on the table. The assistants are sitting across him with their heads bent low, engrossed deep into their work, much like their mangaka who is leaned over his own table in the corner of the room. 

The editor, the only person in the room to acknowledge her, stands up as she enters. “Tanaka-san, you’re here.” A little waver in his monotonous voice tells her that he is mildly surprised at her arrival.

Saeko looks up at the clock and sighs in relief. 11 am. She isn’t very late (she did ‘borrow’ the fastest bike in the shop after all). 

“He didn’t sound very well on the phone last night,” she says. “Like he was driving himself sick. It sounded concerning. And scary. I had to take a leave but I’ll make up for it with a night shift. It’s no big deal.” She waves off the look of worry on Akaashi’s face. Scratching the nape of her neck, she continues, “Tsukishima wanted to come, too, but unfortunately he had work today.” Saeko heaves another sigh. Lowering her voice and leaning towards Akaashi, she asks, “How is he?”

Akaashi’s face drops for a moment, but he picks his tone back up. “Not very good,” he says honestly. “He isn’t even talking to me. The final manuscript has to be submitted today. I tried my best to get them to extend the deadline but...Tenma-san was late last week as well. He’s already a day behind his regular schedule. They won’t budge now.”

“Oh.” Her heart sinks a little at Akaashi’s words. It was expected, with the way Tenma has been talking about work completely stressing him out these past couple of weeks. He's mostly been bad with deadlines, but lately he started sounding like he was constantly on edge. 

Her eyes travel to the other side of the room and she wonders whether he has noticed her at all. Or maybe he has and hasn’t bothered to say anything. 

“Should I?”

Akaashi gestures towards the mangaka’s direction, concern reflected behind his glasses. “Go ahead.”

Tenma is hunched over his desk, quiet. Usually, even if the stress is too much, he’d be muttering curses under his breath, reading dialogues out loud, communicating and complaining with his assistants; saying  _ something _ . But his silence is concerning. The lack of any greeting from his behalf is concerning. His minimal activity is concerning. Everything about this is concerning.

Saeko gulps and makes her way towards him, careful not to disturb his assistants. She stops behind his chair and wonders if she should say something to tell him she's here.

However, there is movement on his behalf. He tilts his head a little to look over his shoulder, perhaps finally acknowledging Saeko’s presence. He doesn’t say anything, though, and hunches over his table again. The sound of his marker resumes.

She bites her lip and walks around the table to stand beside it. Bending her knees, she lowers herself to his eye level. His hair is loose and half-untied so she can’t see his face through them, but she knows he’s doing his best to ignore her.

“Hey,” she says a lot more softly than she intended to say. He doesn’t respond. There is only the scribble of his marker. “Tenma,” she says again, a little louder, enough to get him to tip his nose up slightly. The strands covering his face fall away and Saeko loses her breath for a moment. His eyes are hollow —well, hollower than usual—and swollen and  _ red _ . His lips are pale and all colour has drained from his features.  Saeko’s heart sinks some more.  He hasn’t had proper sleep in at least a long while, or any form of rest for that matter. 

Again, he remains silent. In fact, it seems more like he doesn’t have the energy to say anything. His focus again moves to the paper in front of him. 

She eyes the bag of takeout kept on the other end of the table.

“Did you eat anything?” Saeko asks, and of course, he doesn’t reply. “ _ Did _ you?”

He doesn’t stop with his work, but a small shake of his head tells her ‘no.’

“Alright,” she says and stands up. “You’re taking a break.” When he doesn’t let go of his marker, she pushes his chair back and slides it away from the table, positioning her between him and his work. Despite his exhaustion, he manages to express his surprise and stares at her wide eyed. “You’re  _ eating _ ,” she nearly hisses. “You can’t work like this. I’ll help with whatever you’ll miss out on.”

Tenma wants to say something but she pushes his chair further and waves a hand at Akaashi to help her. Tenma looks mildly annoyed but it’s not like he can fight her in this state (or ever, actually). He mumbles something to voice his protest but Saeko is neither listening nor is allowing him to even look at his table till he gets some food into his system. He’s not going anywhere in this state. He can’t even get himself to speak properly, much less draw.

Akaashi goes to heat up the now-cold food in the microwave. Saeko thrusts Tenma’s still-full bottle of water into his hands and he has no option but to reluctantly comply with whatever she says. The editor brings him his lunch on a plate and Saeko watches him eat with the watchful eyes of a hawk, arms crossed over her chest. 

Tenma takes his time and only manages only to have a little, but she doesn’t force him to have more than he can handle. She’ll make him eat more later anyway.

“You good?” Saeko asks as Tenma hands Akaashi his unfinished plate.

“For now,” he manages to say. 

"That wasn't too hard now, was it?" 

"Hmm."

He still doesn’t look very well and it worries her that he still has to go back to his work in this state. A little colour has returned to his face but he still looks so terribly weak and drained and overworked. She wants him to stop, but she doesn’t know if she’s right to voice it out loud. The time doesn't seem right. 

“Okay,” she says instead, suppressing all her frustration into a small smile. She steps out of his way, helping him scoot back to his table. A realisation then strikes her. 

“Wait,” she suddenly speaks up and Tenma looks her way, as though trying to say an exasperated ‘what.’

“Your hair,” she clarifies. “You need to tie it.”

“Oh.” He parts his lips, a little confused. Still, he raises his hands to his hair, his movements a little robotic and awkward.

She feels heat crawling up her face but she fights it off with a stern, “I’ll help you. You can continue with whatever you’re doing.”

He nods, lowering his hands, still very confused and goes back to his work. She looks around for any visible signs of a comb and doesn’t find one in the mess of his room. Feeling awkward yet again and rebuking herself with a ‘why did you have to bring it up in the first place?’ she brings herself behind him and pulls at his loosely tied hair tie. Careful not to disturb his work, she gently pulls back the long locks framing his face and bunches them together into a loose bun. 

“Alright?”

He nods. "Hmm."

When she’s done, she realises she’s been holding in her breath, which she promptly lets go of.

_ Never again,  _ she thinks as she goes back to Akaashi, trying her best to not think too much about the remnants of Tenma’s high temperature on the tips of her fingers.

Saeko can’t even begin to understand how making manga works, or even art and sketching for that matter, but she stays around helping Akaashi and the assistants with the small tasks: erasing pencil marks, arranging pages in order. It’s not much, but it’s better to have more hands on work. She even gets energy drinks and snack bars from the nearest convenience store, just to make sure everything goes smoothly for the assistants and Akaashi, along with Tenma. The most she can do is make sure they’re eating and drinking and taking breaks, even if the breaks are a minute long. 

She tries not to let the hurt from seeing the mangaka like this reach her, but it does hurt. Kind of. She feels very out-of-place and even though she doesn’t understand why, she just wants to be there somehow.

Saeko isn’t very used to  _ caring  _ for people but she sure as hell knows how to get things in order.

* * *

It’s difficult and messy, and it takes hours with almost non-existent breaks, but it’s six in the evening by the time they’re finishing up; an hour before the deadline. Akaashi is rounding up everything while an assistant works on cleaning up the last page. The other assistant has already left for their second job. 

Saeko attends to the task of cleaning up the room, picking up paper, wrappers, and scraps of tones. She looks up for a moment to find Tenma leaning back on his chair, facing the ceiling. His expression isn’t readable, and it makes Saeko feel a little uneasy. She wants to say something but she figures he needs a breather, so she looks away, going back to picking up stray pieces of paper strewn across the floor.

At twenty minutes past six, Akaashi is standing at the door and tucking the folder containing the manuscript under his arm. The other assistant has gone home, too.

“I’m going to have to submit this now,” he says to Saeko, who’s standing at the door to see him off. “We usually have our storyboard meeting after this, but I think it would be better if he gets some rest first. We’ll have the meeting early tomorrow.” 

Saeko tucks her behind her hair. “Right.”

The way she said it must’ve hinted him on her uneasiness because he asks, “Are you going to be okay? I can stay, too, if you want. I’ll ask someone—”

“No, that’s fine!” Saeko insists. “I was just…thinking." 

He raises a brow, but she waves him off again. 

"There's nothing I can't take care of. You know me!" She rolls her shoulder to emphasise on her words. "You really should go, you’ve done enough today. We’ll be fine, I’ll take care of whatever's left of him.” She laughs it off. “Thank you, though.”

Akaashi studies her for a while but then nods. “Okay, Tanaka-san,” he says. “Thank you for looking after him. And thank you for helping out. You really did us a huge favour."

"Ah, it was no big deal. Just buy me a drink sometime." She flashes him a thumbs up.

Akaashi smiles. "Of course. I’ll see you and Tenma-san tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Take care, Keiji.”

“You too.” Saying that, he leaves.

When Saeko returns to Tenma’s room, he’s still leaning back on his chair, unmoved from his position, but his eyes are closed. She’s relieved to see the pressure of work off of his shoulders, and she was more than thrilled to see him make his deadline. But it feels like it came at too big of a cost. She always knew this line of work was bad, but she never thought it could get  _ worse _ . 

She goes to him and lightly taps on his shoulder to ensure he's still awake. He better sleep on his bed than this uncomfortable chair.

“Get up.”

“Mmm?” His eyes are still closed.

She taps him on the shoulder again, putting a little more force into the action. “Take a bath. Eat something. Then go to bed.” He only has a few hours for sleep and she wants to make sure he gets every minute of that much-needed rest. 

“I don’t want to take a bath.”

_ Of course you don't.  _ “It’ll help with the pain, trust me," she says, deadpan. "And the fever, too. Akaashi was nice enough to ready the bath for you despite his schedule.”

At that, he finally opens his eyes and meets her gaze. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says and studies her for a while. She catches herself staring a little too hard at his eyebags before he asks, “Why are you here, Tanaka?”

She can feel her veins throb at his words. After  _ everything _ , this is what he asks? “You— you overwork yourself to near  _ death  _ and ask me why I’m here—?” She stops herself mid-sentence, keeping in mind the situation they're both in, especially him. “I’m not here to argue. Please get up and take a bath.”

He huffs. “Alright.”

“Great.” 

She offers to help him up but he raises his hand. “It’s okay," he says. "I can go on my own.”

She nods and steps to the side. “Just don’t slip and die,” she calls out to him as he leaves the room.

“I’ll do my best,” he calls back.

After he’s gone, she looks around his apartment for some Bufferin and pain ointment. She also finds an ice pack in the kitchen which she promptly fills up and puts it in an ice filled bowl for whenever he returns. Allowing herself to loosen up, she slumps down on his couch, heaving a loud, exhausted sigh. It has been a long day for her, too. Meeting the deadline was important, but making sure he got through it in one piece was important as well. 

Her eyes fall on the couple volumes of manga on his desk and she decides that flipping through them would be better than the frustrating quiet of the room. _He really did work on all of this,_ she wonders. The distasteful violence is not her thing, but she’s mildly impressed by the art, especially now that she’s familiar with the circumstances he produces said art under.

_ Why are you here, Tanaka?  _ Tenma’s casual question echoes in Saeko’s head and the image of him sprawled on his chair flashes. The heat in her face slowly returns.

“Idiot,” she mutters to herself. 

It’s true, she didn’t know whether it was her place to be here. She doesn’t even know why or how all this works, and why they all put themselves through so much torture. She doesn’t know if she should be feeling this bad in the first place, and whether she was really in a position to be angry on his behalf. The only reason she’s here is, well, because she was concerned. It’s natural to be concerned.

Around half an hour passes when she hears footsteps outside the room. She puts the manga aside and finds Tenma entering his room, in a loose-fitting Vocaloid t-shirt and pajamas. He’s wiping down his wet hair with a towel, and she tries her best to ignore the little skip her heart does at the sight because he still looks pretty miserable. 

“You’re back,” she says, pushing herself back on her feet. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

He has his back to her as he dries his hair but he nods. “Okay.”

There’s not much, some leftover broth and rice, but it’s all she could manage to bring given the sorry state of his kitchen. She brings the bowl of porridge into the room and places it on the chabudai.

“Hey, you can…” 

Her voice drifts away. He’s quiet. Too quiet. And very still. He’s in the same place as she left him, facing the wall, but his head is buried in his towel. It’s almost unnoticeable, but his body is rocking. She gulps.

He’s crying.

In that one short moment, Saeko realises how stupid she was. 

She was stupid in thinking she was out-of-place, that it wasn’t her place to feel bad, to be angry; to be  _ frustrated _ . She wasn’t wrong in thinking the way she did. This  _ is  _ fucked up! He is hurt. He genuinely is hurt. This isn’t just a physically taxing job. What he went through today  _ isn’t  _ normal. He doesn’t deserve this. Nobody does.

Begging her body to move, she forces herself out of her frozen state and makes her way towards him. He’s doing his best to be as quiet as possible, she can tell, suppressing his sobs through the towel. She doesn’t know what to do or say, and her hands tremble just a little. It’s true, she doesn’t know her place here. 

But she’s here, isn’t she?

She wants to say something, call out his name, but instead she finds herself lifting her hands and slowly slipping them under his arms, wrapping them around his waist and pulling herself to his back. Her heart is loud, but her thoughts are numb. All she knows is that she doesn’t want him to feel alone in this.

Tenma stiffens momentarily under her hold, surprised. “Ta...Tanaka…?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice muffled behind his shoulder. “I’m sorry you go through this every day.” 

He tries to push against her arms but she holds him back. Perhaps realising that she isn’t planning on letting go, his shoulders slacken. The towel drops from his hands.

"This is fucked up!" she continues. A part of her wants to stop, because of course he knows this! He knows this more than anyone else. But a door has opened in Saeko and it is not closing any time soon. "You don't eat, you don't drink, you don't sleep, you work till your body hurts, till the stress gives you a friggin’ fever! You keep working and working and you're not even taking care of yourself and for  _ what _ ? You can't just make yourself sick like this! This is fucked up, Tenma."

"Tanaka, I…" His voice is brittle and weak. 

“And look at you! You’re hurt and you don’t even tell anyone! You’re not even talking to me! How is that okay?”

"I don't…"

Perhaps she’s said too much, but she’s not one to care right now. 

After some time, he pushes against her arms again and she finally allows herself to let go. Tenma turns around and faces her even though he doesn't meet her gaze. She can see his eyes are much redder than before; emptier, even. 

"I'm…I think..." he stutters, "I think I'm burning out, Tanaka." He lets out a shaky breath. "I'm so...so tired of all this." His voice is nothing but a pale whisper now.

This time it's Tenma who initiates the embrace and it's Saeko's turn to be surprised. He's weak, she can tell, putting his weight onto her as he leans on her. She brings her hands to his back, trying her best to keep him up. He’s built bigger than her, but he feels so light. She wonders how long he’s been staying like this, alone and unkempt. He doesn't say anything else—he's unable to—and she lets him be, caressing his back gently. 

"It's okay," she says into his hair. "It's okay."

* * *

She helps him onto his bed once he falls quiet. He mumbles something about his arms and his back hurting, which reminds her of the compression bandages she found in one of his drawers. She finds it and wraps it around his right hand, careful not to make it too taut and later brings an ice pack to wrap around his head. She steps back.

“You look like a mummy.”

It’s only when Tenma lets out a small laugh that she realises she said that out loud. Shaking her head, she smiles. At least he seems better now.

“You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“No. You should eat.” He wants to protest but she’s not listening as she’s already getting up and walking to his table to get the porridge.

Tenma sighs when she sits down on his bed, pushing the bowl towards him. 

“No complaining,” she says. “Eat.”

“Fine,” he exaggeratedly mimics her tone and holds the bowl in one hand. He stares at it for a while, before picking up the spoon. He takes another moment to process something, and then puts the spoon down.

“What is it.” Saeko asks, but it sounds more like a statement.

“Feed me, Tanaka.”

She clenches her jaw. “What?”

He seems to have not realised what he just said, because he blinks away whatever daze he was in and shakes his head. “Oh. I promise this isn’t me trying to flirt or anything,” he says, clarifying. “Really. My hand really hurts.” He raises his wrapped, mummy-fied hand.

“Oh,” she echoes calmly, but can feel her stomach twisting inside her. The fact that he would say that this is  _ not  _ him trying to flirt isn't very comforting, but at least she knows he's being honest. 

“You don’t want me to go to bed without eating, do you?” he asks, feigning innocence. If he wasn’t this close to resembling the undead in his manga, she would’ve retorted with her usual jabs. 

“No. No, I do not,” she instead says.

“Cool. Help me, then.”

And she does. Without saying another word, she takes the bowl from him and takes a spoonful of porridge. He has already parted his lips, apparently very involved in his childish act. She brings the spoon to him and he leans forward to take a bite. When she brings the spoon back, his facade cracks and he’s grinning, albeit very weakly.

“Shut up,” she snaps and shoves more porridge into his mouth.

He isn’t able to eat more than a few bites, though. Saeko doesn’t make him eat any more, but makes sure he drinks enough water along with medicine for his fever and pain. Putting the bowl away, she unwraps his ice pack and helps him lay down.

“I should probably take this off before I sleep.” He points at the bandage on his right arm.

“Ah, right.” 

She takes his hand and slowly unties the bandage, simultaneously rolling it around itself as she removes it.

“Thanks,” he says sheepishly as she places the bandage beside his pillow.

“I’m not always going to be here, you know,” she remarks, pulling a sheet over him. “You better start taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah...I know.” He sounds a little bitter, but he’s listening.

“You’re lucky I’m experienced in all this, thanks to Ryuu.” She seats herself back on the edge of the bed. “And you can’t depend too much on Akaashi and your assistants either.”

“I know.”

“You can’t just say ‘I know’ and not do anything.”

“I’ll try my best, Tanaka.” 

Saeko drops her gaze. “Good.” 

She doesn’t know much about burning out, but she knows this isn’t the first time he has gone through something like this. The last time, it resulted in him giving up completely. She wonders, as she gingerly tugs at the edge of his bed sheet, what is different now and whether it would end up being the same. 

“You’re wondering why I don’t just stop doing this.”

Taken aback, she tilts her head up to find him looking up at the ceiling.

“Aren’t you?” His voice is softer now and his eyes meet hers. She bites her lip. 

He’s right. She still doesn’t understand, whether all this work is worth it or not. She can’t simply chalk it up to ‘it is how it is’ and let it be. It’s unfair, no matter how she looks at it. And yet, he continues to do it, to put up with this torture.

“Just wondering.” She shrugs.

He laughs lightly. “Well, I certainly don’t  _ enjoy  _ all of this. I haven’t for a long while now.” Familiar sadness registers on his face, but it disappears as soon as it comes. “It’s repetitive, it’s overbearing, it’s painful. But I just…” He pulls the sheet over his head and drags in a deep breath. Resurfacing himself, he says, “I just don’t want to quit. It’s more like I  _ can’t. _ Not now, anyway.”

“Why?”

“Contracts?” He lets out another short, strained chuckle. “But really. It’s not like I want to quit altogether, you know? There’s a reason why I wanted to draw manga. And I’m not giving up on that this easy. I’ve done a lot to get here and to just give it up?” He pauses, an unreadable shadow over his features. “I can’t do that. It’s just that these schedules suck, this constant need of work sucks, and this pain sucks. Everything sucks. But I just know there are things I want to make. Stories I want to tell. That’s all, really.”

“Hm.” She wants to be surprised at his answer, but it definitely seems like something he would believe in. It does make her feel a little relieved, though. “Can’t you at least take a break?” 

“I don’t know.” His face falls into a thought. “They would give me a week, max.”

“You should still take it.”

He pouts. “Yeah, maybe I should. I don’t think I’ve ever taken a break.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe I am.” Saeko huffs. “You sure you’re okay with continuing, though?”

He purses his lips. “I at least want to finish this manga before the burnout hits,” he answers. “Besides, with its falling popularity I don’t think it’ll last too long. I have other ideas, too. Akaashi said he’s willing to help me out with those. So I don’t wanna give up yet.”

“Oh,” Saeko says. The only thing she could say, really. What he said makes enough sense to her, and there is resolve even in his weak voice that she knows that he truly does want to continue. If he wanted to quit, he really would’ve. He’s that kind of person.

“I just...need to get my shit together,” he says dryly.

She laughs. “Yeah, no shit.”

He smiles at that. The first, genuine one of the day and it makes Saeko feel...well, something. It is quiet, but it is a good kind of quiet. She reaches out to remove the ice pack on his head, which has well started to drip now. 

As  she moves away, she hears him say something. The words are quiet—he says them under his breath and she almost wouldn’t have heard him speak if it wasn’t for their proximity.

“Thank you, Tanaka.”

It takes her some time to absorb those words. Not because she’s never heard him say this before—which he has, a lot of times actually—but because of the sheer weight that his words carry, especially at a time like this. A weight lifts off of her shoulders. She understands why she was needed here, and she’s glad. For him as well as herself.

She playfully bumps his shoulder with a fist. “Don’t mention it.”

“And I’m sorry,” he adds.

“About?”

“Having to take care of a slob like me.”

“Hey,” she interjects. “You’re doing very good for a slob.”

He laughs at that. “Alright, Tanaka. Thanks.”

“Also,” she says, involuntarily pulling at the edge of the bed sheet again, “I’ve been meaning to say this.”

“Mhm?”

“Just...call me Saeko. Everyone calls Ryuu ‘Tanaka’ so it’s just weird to me to have you call me that all this while.”

Tenma raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Her stomach is in knots again.  _ Ugh. _ This communication bit with Tenma requires some getting used to, she thinks. 

“I said, just call me Saeko.”

A moment passes, then another. She doesn’t understand why he’s so shocked by this and the silence adds significantly to her uneasiness. Thankfully, his senses return to him soon. 

The corners of his lips twitch up slightly. “Alright...Saeko.”

He says it in his sick, low, sleepy voice and something implodes and destroys itself within Saeko’s consciousness. She hopes it wasn’t anything too important all while trying to keep a straight face masked behind a small smile.

“Goodnight, Tenma,” she says leaning down to pick up the bowl with the ice pack. “I’ll be here if you need anything.” His eyes follow her movements in the dim light. “You need every wink of sleep you can get. I’ve kept you up long enough.”

She’s about to stand up, but something grabs at her wrist. Not too harsh, but not too weak either. Tenma’s pulling at her hand. Her heart starts hammering against her chest. Flustered, she throws a cold look his way but the way the hazel in his eyes bare gently into her soul immediately silences the chaos in her head and cools down the heat rushing up her face.

“Stay,” Tenma says, and he means it. “Please. Just for a little while”

He doesn’t say more, but the solemn desperation in his voice says everything. Only a small flicker in his eyes tells her that he is still very scared and vulnerable. She hasn’t gotten his tears off of her mind yet. He doesn’t want to be left alone right now. She has never seen him like this, but at this moment, Udai Tenma seems more like himself than he ever has been around her, and for some reason, she doesn’t find it very ill-fitting of him. 

He's laid himself bare today and so has she, in a way.

He lets go of her hand before her skin could register the heat of his touch, his arm loosely falling to his side. The knots in her stomach come undone at the same time.

  
  


“Alright.”

  
  


( _ As it turns out, communication with Tenma didn't require a lot of getting used to _ .)

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> gotta be honest i'm not very used to writing fics like this. comments and kudos are appreciated! 
> 
> [ find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tsukkisachi) and [tumblr](https://21tailsofwoe.tumblr.com/) !!! ]


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